Smaller Victories
by NerdAnel the Wise
Summary: A mysterious girl has just arrived at Hogwarts...with all the rest of the first years. And she's not that mysterious. Beatrice, a muggle-born witch, has enough to get through in her first year without ultimately saving the world. OFC, "anti" MS
1. Default Chapter

_Smaller Victories_

Introduction

I began writing this as a sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing, so I only have a vague idea of where the story will go. In a way it's a response to the Mary Sues rampant in HP fanfiction and the concept that an OC can't be interesting if they don't have OmgKEWL powers that can save the world thrice over. I also thought it would be interesting to see how a muggle-born would react in their first year at Hogwarts. I know Harry was essentially in that same position, but I'm talking about your everyday, run-of-the-mill muggle-born. So, tell me what you think and if I should continue. I know it's not very much to go on, but I would really appreciate any comments.

A/N: This takes place in Harry's first year, though Beatrice will have nothing to do with the Trio and the plot involving them. If I finish this thing, it'll probably just go to the end of _Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone._ Oh, and _Harry Potter_ and anything to do with it belongs to J. K. Rowling, etc etc.

* * *

Beatrice Leighton stood in the milling crowd of first-year Hogwarts students in a room off the entrance hall. Professor McGonagall had just left after informing them the sorting ceremony would start momentarily.

She wandered the fringes, trying to inconspicuously wipe her red, puffy eyes with her robe sleeves, head throbbing with the previous effort of trying to hold back the tears on the train. On the whole she was in a pretty miserable state.

She chanced a glance upwards at her peers. Some were excited, others anxious. Still others had looks of absolute terror on their faces. I'm not the only one, dammit, she thought viciously, trying to crush her self-pity. I'm _not _alone. However, one glance at the expansive, noisy Great Hall across the way brought self-pity rushing back full-force.

Beatrice was so engrossed in feeling wretched that she jolted and gasped audibly as the Hogwarts ghosts burst through the walls and drifted overhead into the Hall, talking amongst themselves. Some took notice of the students, calling greetings. Beatrice gulped. She would have to get used to all this, she knew, but she guessed ghosts would be the least of it.

Professor McGonagall swept into the room again and ordered the first-years out into the hall. The formed a line and filed out through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall, lining up in front of the house tables. A hush fell across the student body.

Beatrice willed her gaze to get up off her toes but only managed to raise it as high as the legs of the long tables instead. She knew she stood out in the crowd and not in a good way. For an eleven-year-old she was exceptionally tall and her growth spurt didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. Self-consciously she wondered if her robes, bought two weeks ago, still fit. Her mouse-brown hair was cropped to her ears and heavily layered (she hated spending more than five minutes a day on it) and her eyes were hazel, though she considered their greenish-yellow hue puke-colored and longed for the day when her parents would let her get colored contacts. However, since the day the Hogwarts letter informed her she was a witch, that (along with the rest of her life she had planned) was thrown out the proverbial window.

She had been contemplating this on the train as she sat in a compartment with other first years. From their talk she guessed they were from wizarding families. They sounded nervous but excited as they talked about the school. A small part of Beatrice longed to ask them all sorts of questions, but intimidation won out. She spent the greater part of the ride with her forehead on the window, watching the scenery go by.

If there was one feeling she hated, it was being lost. She had a knack for it too, always zoning out at the exact moment the teacher told the class to pay attention. Now that she was thrust into a whole world she knew nothing of, that sick feeling she always got when she was lost came worse than ever. Over the summer she had scrambled frantically to get her hands on anything that would help her. She did fairly well, purchasing a dozen books from a wizard shop she hadn't even known existed in her town. She learned all about the wizarding world in general. She would have felt a lot better if it wasn't for one nagging feeling that had pervaded nearly every book she read: the dismissal of nonmagic people as hopeless ignoramuses. Whenever she came across an explicit passage on the subject she always felt righteous anger stirring within her. We're not stupid children! she thought passionately. Pausing, she realized she was no longer part of that 'we.' And thus the cycle of angst would continue.

However, standing in the Great Hall for all to see, she felt she was still part of the nonmagic world. The coward in her betrayed the righteous crusader and started to desperately want to prove that she was indeed worthy of being a witch.

In front of them, Professor McGonagall had placed a small stool on the floor with a forlorn-looking, tattered wizard hat sitting on it. Vaguely wondering how this had anything to do with sorting, she jumped when it suddenly burst into song. It described the four Houses of Hogwarts the first years would be sorted into. To Beatrice's horror, it seemed that students would sit alone and exposed on the stool, put the Sorting Hat on, and be told what House they belonged in. Almost immediately she could feel her heart rate shoot through the roof.

Beatrice had always thought Time had a sick sense of humor, as demonstrated by the fact that it seemed she had barely digested the Sorting Hat's song before LEIGHTON, BEATRICE was called.

And now, of course, Time slowed down to a gut-wrenchingly deliberate pace as Beatrice made her way to the stool. She could feel every last eyeball in the Hall watching her. After an eternity she reached it, clambered up, and shoved the hat on, which mercifully blocked her view of the Hall.

"Well well," said a small voice in her ear. Beatrice guessed it was the Hat. "An interesting one. Meek and a bit scatterbrained, yes, but underneath as hard as nails." Beatrice wondered where it got that from. "Don't deny it, you do have an unerring sense of justice, my girl, and loyalty when you're put to it. Gryffindor could suit you, though you aren't the hardheaded type, so it's HUFFLEPUFF!"

It took a second for her to realize it was over. She quickly plucked of the hat and dropped it on the stool. She looked around like a deer in headlights for a few seconds before spotting some students cheering and waving her over. Hurriedly she walked to the table and slid into an open spot. "It wasn't that bad, now was it?" said a boy to her left, grinning. She offered him a small, relieved smile, partly because she was heartily glad to be part of a crowd again, but also because, in a small way, the sight of the whole Hufflepuff table cheering for her had made her happy to be there.

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Yes, the normal chapters will be substantially longer if I go on. So, if you liked it, please review. If this was crap, please review. Thanks.


	2. Ch 1

Artemis1000: Hey, thanks for the vote of confidence! I'm really glad you like Beatrice. I checked out your bio (I'm very nosy about these things) and I must say that the HG/TR fic looked intriguing. I've never heard of that pairing before. I'll definitely check it out!

Well, I really enjoy writing this fic, so continuation was kinda inevitable. Beatrice is easy to write, in some ways because I was in a similar situation a year and a half ago (my family moved from Massachusetts to Minnesota, so I know what it's like to go to a strange school). I wouldn't really call her a self-insert because, frankly, I don't think I'd want to be in her exact shoes (and no, that's not foreshadowing ). I'm far too cynical to be a Hufflepuff anyway (I'm a self-proclaimed Ravenclaw). And now, on with the story.

* * *

As the cheering died down, Beatrice glanced up and down the table at her new House. Most of them were laughing and chatting. Two new first years sat to her right. One wore her blonde hair in pigtails. She looked as relieved as Beatrice felt. The girl on the other side of her wore her dark hair in a long plait down her back. She caught Beatrice's eye and gave her a small smile. "Hullo. Beatrice, is it?"

"Y-yeah. You're…Susan? Susan Bones?" Beatrice asked, amazed that she even remembered a name to offer. The girl nodded.

"I guess we're all dorm mates, then," observed the blonde girl, Hannah Abbott. She grinned quickly at Beatrice. "Nice to meet you."

Their conversation died down as they turned to watch the rest of the sorting. It went normally enough until Professor McGonagall read off "Potter, Harry!"

The normal chatter was replaced by hasty whispers and a general murmur at the House tables. Everyone craned their necks to try to get a good look at the boy hastily making his way toward the stool. Beatrice was mystified. A part of her wanted to ask Hannah or Susan what was going on, but they seemed too busy trying to get a good view. Beatrice, with her height, could see easily enough. This Harry Potter didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. He was skinny and fairly tall (though not as tall as me, Beatrice observed) with messy dark hair. She could tell by the way he shuffled that he was as nervous as she had been or worse. He shoved the hat on his head. The room held its collective breath. His fists seemed to be clenched. Beatrice still didn't get it, but tried to look interested all the same.

"_mumblemumble_ GRYFFINDOR!" the hat finally shouted.

One table literally erupted with shouts, cheers, and applause. Some students were even chanting. The boy making his way over looked bewildered but relieved. "Ah, of course _he'd_ go to Gryffindor," said Hannah wryly, barely audible over the noise.

"It would be too much to hope he'd be one of us lowly Hufflepuffs," agreed Susan. Beatrice must have looked confused, because Susan then winked and said, "Muggle-born, are you? Well, there is a bit of a hierarchy among the Houses despite what any song might say. We're the House that gets the leftovers, so to speak."

"Susan!" Hannah exclaimed indignantly. The cheering had stopped, and some students nearby glanced at her. She quieted down, looking sheepish. "That's not true! I'd rather be here than in Slytherin at any rate."

"Point," acknowledged Susan.

"What is it with Slytherin?" asked Beatrice, half whispering. "I mean, 'those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends?'"

Hannah gave a glance around. "Well, it _is _the House You-Know-Who was in," she whispered. Beatrice didn't ask any further, sensing it was a delicate subject. The sorting soon concluded, ending with a new Gryffindor (Weasley, Ronald) who actually seemed to be taller than Beatrice. Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away, and everyone directed their attention to the long table at the head of the room. Adults sat along its length. Beatrice guessed they were the teachers. An elderly man with a sweeping silver beard sat in the center. He stood up, and to Beatrice's surprise he didn't stoop or seem to have the frailness of great age. He spread his arms out and beamed at the scores of dark-robed students sitting in front of him. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he boomed. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down amongst applause and cheers. Beatrice clapped bemusedly.

"I guess Aunt Amelia was right. Albus Dumbledore is a strange one," Susan said an amused smile on her face. Beatrice remembered the name from a book. He was a very famous wizard and current Headmaster of Hogwarts. A sudden movement on the table in front of her caught her eye. She gasped. The once-bare table was now piled with platters of delicious-looking food. Beatrice began heaping some of everything on her plate. The half-squished sandwich she ate on the train seemed an eternity ago.

For some time talk died down in the hall as the students ate ravenously. With a contented sigh (though she was regretting that last roast potato), Beatrice sat up. Her eyes wandered all around the hall before settling on the main table. She was towards the opposite end of the hall, so she couldn't see the professors very well. One, however, was wearing what seemed to be a purple turban. He was talking to the man sitting next to him who looked incredibly pale, but that was as much as Beatrice could make out. A second later the food vanished and the plates left sparkling. It was all replaced by dessert, though Beatrice was far too full to even think about a second round.

"So, are you muggle-born, then?" Hannah inquired, head resting in one palm. Beatrice glanced down at her.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"Both my parents are wizards, but Mum's muggle-born." Hannah replied. "Susan here's from an ancient wizarding family." The one in question rolled her eyes as she drank her pumpkin juice. "What's it like, anyway? Living with muggles?" Hannah asked. Beatrice could tell that's what she wanted to say all along. She felt annoyance creep into her voice, but managed to keep it down. Hannah looked genuinely interested.

"Well, the thing is, until this summer, I didn't even know magic existed," she began slowly. "Nonmagic technology is really advancing, you know. It's not like living with cavemen. I'm going to miss a few things, really."

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. "My mum doesn't like to talk about her parents and all. Said they were very religious and thought magic was the devil working."

"Yeah, well, there are some people like that. Most nonmagic kids would think magic is 'really cool,' though. We're rather lucky when you think about it."

Dumbledore stood up once more. The hall went quiet as he gave out some start-of-term notices: the forest was out-of-bounds and no magic in the hallways. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

At the last announcement, the students began to murmur warily amongst themselves. Most everyone seemed to sense Dumbledore was quite serious. Beatrice suddenly wondered what exactly was in that corridor and if it could possibly escape.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore called, interrupting the numerous conversations taking place. Everyone glanced up. He drew his wand from his robes and gave it a flick. Something like gold ribbon came out and weaved itself into curly words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore. "and off we go!"

Beatrice soon realized that this was a problem: the cacophony sounded like a zoo full of animals bellowing in something like acute pain. She and the two other girls made up their own tunes and finished somewhere towards the beginning of where everyone else ended up. The last singers were two redheaded boys at the Gryffindor table going at a funeral-march pace. After they finished the last line, everyone applauded, smiling and feeling rather silly.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said in a sentimental tone. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

There was general confusion throughout the hall as first years desperately tried to find house prefects and not get lost in the rush. Beatrice, Hannah, and Susan followed the calls of "Hufflepuff, with me!" out of the hall, getting jostled and shoved on the way. Beatrice began to panic slightly; in the sea of black she couldn't tell who was who. Soon, however, the Hufflepuffs broke away from the main rush and headed down a stairway off the main hall. For a moment Beatrice worried that they were heading towards some dungeon, but the corridor remained well-lit with glowing torches and as friendly-looking at a drafty corridor could be. At intervals there were large framed canvasses on the wall. Their owners watched the students with mild interest. Beatrice wasn't that surprised by them; the pictures in her wizard books had moved as well (and gave her a nasty shock when she first saw them, though she wouldn't admit it).

They turned right into another corridor, this one lined with expansive tapestries. The prefects leading the group halted in front of one depicting a pastoral scene. A large, spotted sow looked up from her furrowing in a farmyard and regarded them with crinkly dark eyes. "Password, then?" she said in a breathy voice punctuated by snorts.

"Hen Wen," said the boy prefect clearly. The sow snorted. Just in front of the tapestry, a good-size square of several stones slid back into the wall, revealing a carpeted stairway leading down. The girl prefect turned to the group. "First years," she called. "These stairs lead down into our Common Room and the Dormitories. You must know the password to get in, so don't forget it! It will change regularly. Now come on, and go straight to your dormitories and to bed."

They all followed her down the stairs and into the Common Room. Beatrice looked around while following the girls. It was a comfortable place; the walls and floors of the square room were stone, but there were numerous fuzzy rugs and armchairs. A fire was burning merrily in the fireplace, the crest of Hufflepuff hung above the mantle. The girls were led to a door in the left of the room to their dormitories. The first year's dormitories were down a hallway and up some steps. Beatrice, Hannah, Susan, and two other girls piled through the door. The room was somewhere near ground level and looked straight out onto the lake that bordered part of the school building. Looking down into its dark waters, Beatrice knew they needn't worry about peeping toms. The beds in the small dorm were all large and hung with golden-yellow drapes. Beatrice chose one next to the window. She yawned hugely and felt at once sleepy and full. She and the other girls struggled into nightclothes from their trunks (which were inexplicably in the dorm). They fell into their beds mumbling good nights and almost simultaneously drifted into dreamless sleep.

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To be honest, I really don't like re-typing exact dialogue from the books, but I couldn't do anything else for this chapter. It'll be kept to a minimum for the remainder of the fic. Things will also get more interesting from here, what with classes and all. As always, concrit or any review is appreciated.


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